Behind the Scars
by I-Like-Pie-Too-Dean
Summary: One wrong step transports Harry to another realm where he is saved by two men wearing the White Tree of Gondor. Taken in by Gandalf, Harry learns of another war brewing and he is once more forced to fight - or die trying. Starts Pre-LoTR. Eventual Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Thanks for clicking on this story** **!**

 **As in the story description, this story will be eventual slash. I say eventual as so far there is nothing and I have another 14 chapters written of this. So when I say eventual, there will be very very many chapters before anything happens and even then it is a start to a relationship - nothing explicit. Hence a T rating.**

 **However, you have all been warned here so if you don't like slash then please don't read any further! Or do read ahead and enjoy the adventure story and the eventual small male on male relationship which will NOT become the focus of the story but merely a sub-story.**

 **Those of you who read no matter what - I love you guys.**

 **I will post my disclaimer only once - I think by now everyone on this site knows that I do not own anything. All characters belong to the respective J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien.**

 **Enjoy x**

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 ** _Behind the Scars_**

 **Chapter 1**

There were two scars that Harry Potter had since before he could remember. He didn't know how he had gotten them, or how they'd come to be so important and special to him, he just felt it within his soul.

The first was the lightning bolt shaped scar across his forehead. The jagged red line healed long ago but the bright red colouring of scar tissue had never faded. It was unlike anything any child or adult had seen before. It was different, but different to his family meant bad. It was too noticeable. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always made him keep his hair long to cover the 'freak' mark.

The second scar he had was on the left side of his body, a thin white line that ran vertically along his ribcage beneath his arm, all the way past his hip. It was strange, unlike his other scar it was barely noticeable, one unbroken line. The silvery, raised skin having healed cleanly left only the slightest blemish on his skin. His chest rarely got sun so the scar blended in with his skin tone. Even if not noticeable to the eye, he knew it was still there.

He had once asked Aunt Petunia about it when he was younger. Her lips had pursed and her eyes narrowed before she blamed the accident which had killed his parents and gave him the first scar. She didn't seem to know much, but the few times he'd asked she'd always got angry and frumpy. He learnt to not ask about it.

When he grew up and was told the real reason as to how his parents died, he learnt the story behind only one scar and his life had irrevocably changed forever. He never gave much thought to that thin scar that ran along his torso again.

 **/** **/** **/**

It had been exactly three years since the war had ended.

Three years of quiet peace with the only odd disturbances being exposure of the wizarding world to muggles, which were easily cleaned up by Obliviators and Aurors. The British Ministry of Magic had finally finished repairs and allocated compensation to those who had been greatly affected by the war. Everyone had been helping with repairs, funded by the money taken from Purebloods and other convicted sympathisers' vaults.

One would think that by removing all traces that the war even occurred would help settle this new age of peace and it did for most of the wizarding world.

Yet, one Harry Potter couldn't find his peace. He was stuck in a place where his purpose in life (whatever that was supposed to mean - Hermione had been trying to convince him to try new things lately) was lost.

After defeating Voldemort, people had begun to move on, slowly but surely. There was hope for them. But for Harry, the one thing driving him, pushing him to be better, was now gone.

Mind you, he enjoyed not being the sole saviour, the one to ogle at on the street. No, everyone now knew what roles Hermione and Ron played, how Neville had defeated Nagini and in the process a part of Voldermort's soul, and the countless others who had fought at Hogwarts that night. He wasn't the only hero anymore.

He never much liked attention, preferring to keep whatever private life he had under wraps. Even the Prophet had stopped writing articles about him. People still stared and many wanted photos and handshakes, but he wasn't hounded like he used to be. Three years was enough time for society to move on.

That is how Harry found himself standing at the edge of the cliffs surrounding Shell Cottage, the sounds of the waves crashing below thundering in time with his pounding headache.

The night air was cool, forcing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He was glad the jumper he wore was thick, as he'd left his jacket inside with his wand on the inside of the breast pocket.

The light and dull noise of laughter from inside was like white noise to his outlook over the dark stretched out before him. He knew he should be in there, with all the Weasleys and their friends, celebrating another year of peace from the war, another year Voldemort-free.

But he couldn't bring himself to.

He had sat on a plush chair in the extended living room, listening to the chatter around him as he sipped at his firewhiskey until the noise started to pain his head and ears. That's when he excused himself from the festivities and left for the front garden.

He caught Ginny's eye as he left, shrugging at her raised brow. She shook her head and turned back to her conversation with Luna.

He was glad he and Ginny remained friends after the war. Everyone had expected more to blossom between them, but the loss of their friends and family had torn them apart. Some wounds just couldn't heal.

As Harry walked through the garden, passing bushes starting to bud with the coming flowers, he stopped only to kneel by the small grave. He brushed a few leaves from the spot, patting the tomb head.

"Hope you're enjoying all the socks, Dobby," Harry whispered as he let his hand linger for a moment before getting up and finishing his walk to the cliffs.

Harry breathed in deep, filling his lungs till they hurt as he exhaled slowly. He willed the throbbing behind his eyes away, the pain stinging. He had gotten his eyes fixed after the war, his iconic round glasses now rested on the fireplace mantle in Grimmauld Place.

He rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose with his index finger. The shadows cast by the light of the windows drew his attention to the ground. The stretched black figures moved around in the yellow light, eerily reminding Harry of dementors as they glided across the grass.

Harry stepped closer to the edge, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down into the black, watery depths below, adrenaline pumping. As he did, the pain behind his eyes and the pounding in his head ebbed away. The thrill of it made him laugh breathlessly and for the first time in a while, he felt alive.

He knew how wrong that was. To feel anything only by risking his own life. He rolled on the balls of his feet. He wasn't about to plunge off in a swan dive or anything that stupid, he knew better than that. It was enough just standing with his toes near the edge and looking down to feel like he was atop of the world.

He didn't notice the way the dirt was crumbling, the rocky edge made unstable with his movements.

"Harry, want a glass of bubbles?" Hermione asked from the doorway of the cottage, her face shadowed by the light streaming from behind her.

Harry turned to face her, taking a step forward. It was time to rejoin the others, even if that meant smiling that fake happy smile.

Next thing he felt was weightlessness.

He could hear the shocked cry of Hermione as he fell, the ground he had just been standing on dropping with him in chunks of rock and soil.

Harry looked up at the starry sky above and wondered if this was the end, and if it was, it was hardly the way he'd expected his death to be.

As his back hit the water he let out a gasp as pain shot through him, feeling his bones break. The surface of the water had felt like concrete and it had surely broken his back.

As he was plunged into the icy water he was pulled about by the turbulent waves that crashed over him, tossing him against the rocks hiding beneath the surface. He rolled and struggled to right himself, but he honestly had no clue which way was up and down as he was thrown.

As his lungs burned for air, he felt his body stop struggling through the pain, his limbs growing weaker and weaker as he felt his consciousness slip from him.

 **/** **/** **/**

A body washed ashore, the pebbles and rocks cutting into already torn and bloodied flesh. The body was bruised badly and dark hair was matted against the swollen face. Clothes were drenched and ripped, exposing the body to the elements.

To passers by, the body would just be another casualty and they would pay no mind to it. After all, monsters still roamed the lands and the men and women didn't want to get mixed up in it all if they could avoid it.

If only one were to venture closer, they would hear the shuddering breathing of the man and realise he was on the brink of death, barely holding on, but alive nonetheless. Because god forbid that Harry Potter was going to give up just yet.

Crunching boots on the pebbles brought two men closer, the smaller of the two slowly touching the body, talking to his companion in mumbled tones.

Harry was slipping between consciousness and sleep, hearing the foreign language the men were speaking. He felt large hands grip him as he let out a whimper as pain shot through him. God he was sore.

The hands were much more gentle as they turned him so he was on his back, which Harry was surprised didn't hurt as much as it had when he had first hit the water.

He tried to open his eyes, the lids swollen and heavy and all he was able to make out was a mess of dark hair and two blurry faces.

"R-Ron…?" He managed to breathe out between his split lip, tasting the coppery liquid which coated his mouth as he swallowed.

The blurred figures were still talking to each other as Harry tried to continue speaking but his tongue didn't seem to want to move.

A hand on his forehead had him stilling, wondering what was happening and why he was even still alive after a fall like that.

The coolness of the hand against his forehead had him fighting to stay awake, his body urging him to give into the darkness and to rest. Reluctantly, Harry let himself fall back into a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**To all those guys who reviewed the first chapter this is for you! I was so excited about such positive first reviews that I couldn't help but post the next chapter.**

 **Hope you enjoy x**

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 **Chapter 2**

Boromir and Faramir had been patrolling along the river near Osgiliath. Recently, the townspeople had been seeing sightings of monsters on the other side of the river, shadowed black beasts who would caw and holler so their voices rang out in the middle of the night, keeping the residents awake in fear of an attack.

While they had been living in peace, there was seemingly more and more sightings of evil creatures over the years. As soldiers of Gondor they had a duty to protect those who resided within their lands. Plus, it wasn't like the brothers had much choice. They were young and their father all but chose the paths that they were to walk in life. To honour and glory, the Steward had said.

They were astride their beasts, the white tree of Gondor embellished into the tunics they wore. At their side was a sheathed sword, one hand resting on the hilt in case they needing to draw and battle at any moment.

They were moving at a leisured pace through the thicket which lined the river banks, following a small animal track. They kept their eyes on the rocky shore of the river.

"Brother, up ahead," Faramir whispered as he slowed to a stop, his horse tossing her head in annoyance. Boromir pulled up next to him and stopped. He dismounted his horse, looking up the river bank to the body which laid there.

At this distance they couldn't make out much detail, but one thing for sure was that they were either man or elf.

"Stay here, Faramir," Boromir said as he kept a hand on his sword, slowly stepping off the trail and onto the pebbled shore.

"I want to come too," Faramir said as he dismounted, ignoring the look his older brother gave him.

"Faramir," Boromir said in warning.

"The man is possibly dying, I'm the one who's adept at dressing wounds," Faramir said as he grabbed a small bag from under his saddle blanket. He was glad his friendship with Gandalf the Grey had allowed him to learn more about the art of healing. While he was no wizard, he could at least help.

Boromir looked up the bank to where the body lay still.

"The man is probably dead," Boromir stated as he began to walk again, making sure to keep an eye around them, in case of an ambush.

Faramir ignored his brother. He was still young and headstrong, he knew he had to help because that was the right thing to do. He moved quickly to the body, kneeling down next to the man.

He could hear the ragged breath the stranger took, and knew he was a man from the shape of his ears. He reached out to grab the man's shoulders and he quickly pulled back at the hiss that escaped the bleeding lips.

"Boromir, he's alive," Faramir said over his shoulder as his brother approach. "Do you think he's one of the townsfolk?"

Boromir couldn't see the man's face. "We have to turn him over."

Faramir nodded, this time he gently pushed at the man's shoulder, rolling him onto his back. As he did, he could see the full extent of his wounds and the bruising that could be seen beneath the torn clothing looked horrible.

"Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name, Sir?" Faramir asked gently as he looked over the man, not touching him yet as he could hear the hard time the drowned man had breathing.

Boromir stood guard, looking around as Faramir began to assess the wounds. Every few moments Boromir would flick his eyes down to the man. Man was hardly the word to describe the stranger. Even with the swollen face and battered body the kid looked too small, too young. Boromir had to wonder why no one in their lands had reported that one of their own was missing. Even if he'd come from high upstream, the towns there were still Gondor's lands.

The man was trying to speak as Faramir hushed him, placing a hand on his forehead.

"Boromir, he's burning too hot, we must get him somewhere warm and out of these wet clothes," Faramir said as he took a cloth from his bag and was wiping down the man's face, removing the sediment and dirt that had been sticking to it.

Boromir nodded, gesturing for Faramir to move away as he careful hooked his arms around the bend of the man's leg and around his back, lifting him as smoothly as he could to not jostle him.

He could hear the man was breathing at least, but the lack of pained sounds had Boromir thinking he was asleep.

"Faramir, go back to Minas Tirith and ready a room at the inn." Boromir ordered as he placed their wounded man face down across the saddle, his body hanging limply across either side of the horse. As he mounted, he moved the man back upright, keeping his head against his shoulder so his head wouldn't loll.

"We won't make it that far…" Faramir said as he helped Boromir, moving the unconscious man's legs to sit in the saddle properly. He knew the fever would take the man if he wasn't tended to soon.

"We will ride hard till we find shelter. I think there is an old farmhouse just north," Boromir instructed as he waited for his brother to mount his horse as well. Boromir urged his horse into a gallop, knowing that the man against him would most likely die if they didn't make it.

 **/ / /**

The two men had set the inside of the old farmhouse up to keep the weather out and the warmth in. Boromir tended to a fire made in the old stone fireplace, while Faramir was setting up their saddle blankets and cloaks for the man to lay under.

Luckily the place had been boarded up when they arrived, allowing Boromir to break the door in with a shove and find the place relatively usable, if not a little dusty.

"What was this farmhouse used for?" Faramir asked in hushed tones, sitting their unconscious man up as he began to remove the woolen pullover he wore. Beneath was a strange tunic of black material, unlike anything Faramir had felt before. It was so silken, with a line of buttons along the front that seemed to hold them together.

"It was first used to farm crops for Cair Andros but it was abandoned due to the isolated nature," Boromir replied as he stoked the fire with a stick, "the farmers thought the view of Mordor was ominous too, the crops never grew as well as they should have."

Once he was sure it was burning nicely, he moved over to help his brother. He helped sit the man up so his head was resting against Faramir knee, propping the man upright.

Faramir was wiping away the blood and dirt from the man's upper torso, revealing the numerous cuts and bruises. Some of the cuts were deep and jagged but others were shallow, more like grazes. They were still oozing some blood but it wasn't free flowing which was good. The main concern still was the fever.

"He must have come far down the river," Boromir remarked as he took a cloth and cleaned the wounds on the back.

Faramir was cleaning up the dark hair, pushing it back from the forehead and face so he could add salve to the bruises. Across the forehead was a strange red scar. "How odd," Faramir said as he ran a finger gently along the red mark.

Boromir saw the mark but didn't say anything. It was like the boy was blessed by a strike of lightning. As he continued to gently wipe the back, he could see numerous scars beneath the open wounds. "Looks like our man here is no stranger to battle," Boromir commented which Faramir nodded to.

As they cleaned him it seemed more and more was revealed, to the scar along his inner arm which was long and jagged and the strange inscription against the back of his hand.

"Maybe he's from Rohan?" Faramir suggested, grabbing the pot of salve as he began to gently rub the thick goop across the bruises.

"In these strange clothes? Seems more like a friend of the elf folk," Boromir grunted. He's heard of the elves and the alliance they once had with the men of Gondor, but in all his years living he'd yet to see an elf in real life. The portraits and banners depicting the battle against Sauron always showed them as beautiful creatures, all soft features and long hair.

Faramir hummed in agreement, it was true the garments worn by the man were strange, even his pants were unconventional for riding or battle, tight fitted but not allowing for maneuverability. As they moved the body to shimmy the torn pants off, they were able to see just how thin the man was. He had lean muscle for sure, but hardly the body of a soldier or fighter.

Leaving the man in his strange undergarment pants, they finished rubbing salve on the wound and bruises, stopping the wounds being infected from outside elements.

The salve was a concoction that Gandalf had shown Faramir when he was young and the Wizard had travelled to Gondor. It was made from a selection of plants and a small amount of mead (Gandalf said something in the drink helped with keeping wounds clean). The deeper cuts Faramir had wrapped some strips of clean cloth around, winding around his chest and back. Around his head they wrapped another cloth as they found the bleeding cuts which matted the dark hair.

They tucked the still unconscious man beneath the blankets before the fire, making sure he was close enough to the hearth to feel the heat. Then they settled themselves in for the night, the sun long gone behind the horizon by the time they had finished dressing the wounds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone that has favourited, followed, and reviewed. It's so nice to see so many of you beginning to enjoy this as much as Blindfold and I must say, this story is becoming one of my favourites to write. Don't fret though, I won't be giving up on Blindfold anytime soon and a new chapter is coming!**

 **x**

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 **Chapter 3**

Harry had felt like he'd been stuck in the darkness surrounding him for days. He didn't really know, time felt like an age in this darkness, but he felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness.

Every time he would wake he could hear men's voices and he'd try to open his eyes but found that he couldn't. They felt heavy and he struggled to move any part of his body.

He felt weighed down and lethargic, which to be fair, is a normal reaction when the last things he could remember were falling off a cliff into the ocean, being battered against rocks, and being washed ashore in some foreign land. God he hoped he hadn't washed ashore across the Atlantic, but knowing his luck he probably had.

Now he was stranded in some strange far-off land and no one would be able to find him here. He could only hope that Hermione wouldn't kill him for scaring her like that.

With those thoughts running through his head, Harry knew he had to get better and wake up so he would find a way home.

So, in the darkness he tried to reach out to his magic, feeling and concentrating with all his willpower just to feel that familiar spark within him.

There was nothing.

Just emptiness.

If he was awake he would have screamed and kicked in frustration. What did this all mean? Was his magic, Merlin forbid he say it, gone? Was that even possible? How could it even have happened? He knew that magic was life to wizards, which is why when a Dementor performed a kiss, the shell that remained of the human, even though living and breathing, wasn't able to perform magic anymore. Magic was tied to the soul and in-turn, the soul thrived off magic.

He was so screwed.

Harry felt a hand caress his face, wiping gently. A deep voice rumbled words he couldn't understand, but the touch familiar. It was gentle and kind, like something Hermione did to wipe his face when he cried… oh right, he was crying, even in his sleep. He drifted off at the gentle touch of whoever was his carer.

 **/ / /**

After tending to the wounded man, the next morning Boromir had travelled back to Minas Tirith to replenish supplies and to send word to their father that they would be absent.

Of course he didn't write the truth about the stranger they had found. Rather, he'd written they were setting up camp in the farm house so their patrols would be easier. He didn't wait to hear a response letter, giving the scroll to the messenger boy who'd run it up to the white city.

In the lower levels of Minas Tirith he had bought a cart and laden it with barrels for storage. He'd haggled with a lady in the market for potatoes, onions and grain. It would do enough for some stew and gruel. He was able to purchase a leg of salted goat as well, which would keep for a while.

It helped that he was a well known face around these parts as well, as the woman's young daughter had shyly waved with a smile. Boromir had smirked in response, but did not say anything.

He then went to the healer in town, gathering addition supplies that Faramir had instructed he get for their wounded stranger. He'd packed this all up in some spare blankets that the inn had provided him, and then spent the night with a meal and a jug of mead to fill him. In the morning, he started the journey back to the farmhouse.

 **/ / /**

Faramir and Boromir took turns watching the boy and with no signs of improvement after the fourth night, Faramir was getting worried.

"I will ride to the White Wizard to see if he can help, or at least help me find Gandalf the Grey," Faramir had told Boromir, who could only nod.

Neither of them were very experienced with healing and the presence of a stranger in Gondor would alert their father of their disobedience. If they could, they'd keep the stranger out of towns and cities for now. If he turned for the worse, then and only then, would they ride.

"Ride hard and be safe," Boromir said in goodbye, clutching his brother's shoulder in a show of affection.

Faramir nodded before mounting his horse and setting off in a gallop, towards the tower of Isengard.

Boromir was left to tend to their wounded stranger for the rest of the days and nights.

 **/ / /**

Harry had thought of many reasons as to why he couldn't feel his magic. He had knocked his head too hard and knocked the magic right out of him, and now he was a Squib. He had somehow had it stolen from him by some on-the-run death eaters as karma for killing Voldemort.

Every excuse was becoming more and more extreme and while he knew it was stupid, they made him feel a little better thinking that whatever had happened was out of his control and was the result of some greater forces at play.

He had to calm his frantic thoughts down. The evidence he had would point to the most obvious. That was when he fell, he should have surely died, yet here he was. Or was he? He still didn't know if this was reality or if he did die and this blackness was hell.

If the fall was to have killed him, or surely have broken his back, he could tell he was laying on his back and there was barely any pain. So did his magic all go to fixing his back and keeping him alive underwater that whole time? He didn't even know how far he had gone and been pulled by the tide, so his magic could have been sustaining him for days. Would that be long enough to drain his whole magical core? Who knows, maybe Hermione would know… if she were to ever find him.

Dammit.

He was getting emotional again.

Those gentle hands were there once more, brushing the hair from his forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Just a short little chapter. Thank you to all those who reviewed, favourited and followed. I hope you're all enjoying it so far!**

 **xx**

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 **Chapter 4**

When Harry was finally able to open his eyes it was to a bright light that burned, making him wince as he lifted his hand to shield it from his face.

He turned away from the light streaming in between the cracks in the boards against the windows, facing the fire. The light and warmth of the fire had him sighing contently. As he opened his eyes, slowly this time, he blinked a few times as if to stretch the muscles in his face.

He gingerly touched his face, wincing as he felt the swollen state and the cut above his eyebrow had crusted, which made it harder to blink. All he smelt was something alike mint but not as strong.

He laid still for a while, assessing and processing all this now that he was conscious. He lifted a hand above his face, staring at the scabs on his hands. He tried to focus internally, reaching out for his magic. Harry sighed sadly as he felt nothing, just emptiness. He felt so vulnerable and bare without his magic. He'd spent 20 years with his magic, even if 11 of them he hadn't know about it.

He tried to move to sit up but winced as he felt pain shoot through him. He breathed out slowly, rolled over, then every so gently he lifted himself up with his hands, looking around him.

They were in a hut of some sort, with the fire before him providing heat but there was little furniture except for a table and chairs. On the far side of the room was a bed large enough for 2, which had a cloak draped over the end of the bed and the sheets were a mess. So he wasn't alone.

The opposite wall was lined with large wooden barrels, raised up from the floor on make-shift pallets. Above the barrels was shelves with brown glass corked bottles and jars of different shapes and sizes.

Harry looked down at the blankets he was piled under. It was then he realised he was shirtless. Peeking beneath the blankets he was glad he was at least wearing his boxers.

Looking over himself, he saw the bandages and the mottled green bruises, some splotches of yellow and a deep purple peppered along the skin. He lifted the bandage around his chest, seeing the dried putty-like stuff against his skin.

Even though he was sure he looked a mess, he felt better than he knew he looked. Maybe he did sacrifice his magic to be here, but of all the places did it have to be so… old looking? Harry had to think he had washed ashore some strange primitive land as there wasn't a sign of lights or electronics at all.

The door opened, startling Harry.

A tall man with dark hair walked in, his arms laden with blocks of wood. He was wearing a white tunic and what looked like leather riding pants, although Harry couldn't really tell in the light.

The man, seeing him awake began to speak. Harry frowned, not able to pick the language at all.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak your language," Harry spoke softly, gesturing to his throat, "english? Do you speak english?"

The man said something again as he placed the wood in a pile near the fireplace, his back to Harry. He finally turned, allowing Harry a good look at him.

The man was tall, broad shouldered with a muscular build. He had dark brown hair and piercing grey eyes that reminded him eerily of a certain Slytherin. The man had a handsome face, nothing overly out of place, with heavy brows and thin lips.

He seemed to be taking Harry in too, as he crouched down, looking him over. Harry felt like he was some animal at a zoo under the scrutiny.

"What?" Harry said as the man continued to stare.

The man said a string of sentences again which Harry scrunched his face up at, ignoring the pain. This was going to be annoying.

"I. Don't. Understand. You." Harry said slowly, pointing at the man and then to himself, shrugging in a universal gesture of 'what the hell is going on'.

The man frowned, a few lines forming between his brows and around the corner of his eyes. As Harry looked at him he had to guess he was in his 30s? It was hard to tell with the man's tanned skin.

The man scowled and muttered to himself, standing as he went back to the door, walking outside, gesturing for Harry to follow.

Harry was hardly one to stay cooped up so he stood slowly, testing his weight and was glad to feel that he wasn't in any immense pain - meaning no broken bones.

Wrapping one of the blankets around himself, he walked bare foot across the hard stone floor and out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you everyone that has reviewed, favourited and followed! It really gives a writer a boost to know people are enjoying what you have written, so thank you. All of you.**

 **The story is beginning to pick up in pace and I will be giving further explanation in chapters about the dates and years for reference. For now, however, I hope you don't mind being as clueless as Harry.**

 **Hope you enjoy x**

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 **Chapter 5**

Outside was blindingly bright and Harry had to squint till his eyes adjusted. What he saw took his breath away.

Before him was a large field, tall grass which looked like wheat stretching out before him. Next to the small hut they were in was wooden stables, with a horse within, grazing at a trough. Next to the stables was a cart propped against a wooden block.

In the distance he could see large trees clumped together, lining the whole field along the right hand side, never seeming to end.

He could barely hear any noise except the sound of the wind blowing. There was no rumbling of cars or the distant murmur of bustling people. Nothing except the sound he was making as he moved through the grass, one hand running through the tops of the stalks as the other held the blanket at the front.

Harry followed the man through the grass, still looking around.

Boromir sighed to himself as he watched the boy walk around, following him. The fact that he was speaking some strange language was making this a lot harder than it should have been. It was obvious he was not from these lands and Boromir had to wonder if he'd come from the realm of elves. He had heard of men being taken in by the elves in the past.

He led the stranger towards the creek, knowing that he was following by his soft footsteps. As they approached, Boromir stopped and leant against a tree, gesturing with his hands to the man to go do whatever he needed to.

Harry stopped by the bank the man had lead him to. He watched him carefully. Was he going to do something? Was he going to kill him and dump his body in the river? The water wasn't that deep from the looks and it was slowly flowing, so maybe not so great a place to dump a body.

Harry dropped the blanket he had around his shoulders on a small boulder by the shore. He took his time to unwind the bandages, all the while the other male watched him with a trained eye. The man made a comment and Harry turned to see the man approach him, holding a hand out.

Harry raised a brow, the dried salve cracking and falling into his eyes. Harry had to wipe the flakes from his face.

"I'll wash those," Boromir said again, reaching down to take the bandages.

The man reached out, grabbing them before Boromir could, mumbling words under his breath as he hurriedly moved into the stream of water.

Harry was embarrassed.

The man was obviously going to grab the dirty bandages from him, for whatever purpose the man was trying to say to him in his native tongue. Harry wasn't going to let him take the bandages before he'd washed them of the dried paste and blood.

Harry squatted by the water, leaving the pile of bandages between his feet as he set about washing each one clean. He then carefully laid out the washed cloth against the pebbled shore, hoping they'd dry in the sun.

Boromir watched the man as he set about washing them. He watched the way his spine curved as he squatted, the bones slightly poking out. The boy was too thin. Just where had he come from?

Boromir sat down on a larger rock, his eyes flicking between the man and the trees behind them and the other side of the small creek, an offshoot of the greater river where they'd first found the man with him now. He watched the man finish up with wringing and placing the bandages out.

Harry moved into the water, wincing at the temperature as the hair on his skin rose. He set about to gently washing off the salve, seeing the scabs and wounds were all healing up nicely. He had to wonder just how long he'd been asleep for. He wade into the water, feeling the current flowing against him. By the time he was standing in the middle the water lapped at his belly button, the clear water shimmering in the sunlight.

As he ran his fingers over his skin, washing it all away he suddenly stopped. Something familiar was gone.

Harry lifted his arm up, feeling along his side as he tried to feel the scar that he had had since before he could remember. He felt nothing, just skin with a few scabs from his tumble. There was no thin raised line of scar tissue.

The wizard had to frown, how did a scar like that even disappear? He ran his fingers down his side again.

Nothing.

Harry felt a small part of himself blanch. That was a scar he'd always had, it was as much a part of himself than the lightning bolt above his eye. Thinking about it, Harry quickly washed his face, rubbing the salve away roughly, not caring at the small amount of pain.

He stared at his rippled reflection as he heaved a sigh of relief. His famed scar was still there.

Why one and not the other, he hadn't the foggiest idea. What it did mean was that something happened when he fell from that cliff, something magically which had removed his scar.

Harry continued to wash himself with a small frown. This was all just so strange. He bent over, washing the gunk from his hair and face.

As he finished and began to move back to shore, the man was still watching him closely. Harry wished he had his magic so he could spell himself dry and he was well aware of how his wet boxers clung to his lower half.

Quickly wrapping the blanket around his middle, Harry shook his limbs dry before turning back to the man.

"Uh...lead the way back, I guess?" Harry said as he began to gather the now dry bandages.

The man furrowed his brow and said something.

"Again, mate I don't know what you're saying."

The man walked forward, taking the bandages from Harry's hands as he placed them down, pulling at the towel at Harry's waist.

"Wha-" Harry all but yelled, flustered by the strangers action.

The man gave a small chuckle under his breath but used the blanket to dry Harry's damp hair.

Boromir was amused by the man's reaction. "You have to dry off otherwise your fever will return."

Boromir looked at the man before repeating, "dry."

Harry let the man use the blanket to dry his hair. The man said a word he gestured to Harry's body.

Harry tried to repeat what the man said.

"Yes. Dry," Boromir said as he pointed at the towel then to the man's body.

Once the man was finished, Boromir waited till he gathered the bandages and then lead the way back to the cottage.

Harry stopped the man with a hand. He pointed to his chest. "Harry. My name is Harry."

Boromir turned and watched and listened to the words.

"Harry."

Said man pointed at his own chest. He then pointed to the other man.

Boromir seemed to get the gist of it.

"Boromir. My name is Boromir."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello all my lovely readers!**

 **Thank you everyone for the lovely reviews and to everyone that favourited and followed! I love feedback or hearing how you're liking he story so please feel free to review or PM me!**

 **Hope you enjoy the next chapter and more is soon to come!**

 **xx**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Faramir returned to the farmhouse just before sundown when the sky was dusted in reds and purples. He had been riding now for many days. It had taken him over 20 days and nights to journey north through Rohan and to the tower of Isengard.

There, he had sought council with the White Wizard on the whereabouts of Gandalf. Saruman had been able to send a raven out to find Gandalf, explaining the bird was under his magic and would search out the Grey Wizard. The raven clutched a scroll in his claw which Faramir had scribbled quickly, asking for help.

Saruman had been more than gracious to help the youngest son of the Steward of Gondor. Faramir had the feeling the generosity of hosting him for the night was for political purposes, however he kept it to himself that he wasn't here on behalf of his father. Saruman didn't have to know that his father was still holding firm in his stance that wizards were untrustworthy and crafty beings.

As he rode back from Isengard, he was three nights in when Gandalf rode into his small camp astride a beautiful white horse. Gandalf had come from Dale in the north and had been travelling back when he had received Saruman's raven.

After explaining the situation in which they had found the wounded man, Gandalf agreed to assist Faramir with this stranger and they began the journey back home.

Now, 15 nights later he returned. He pushed open the door, surprised as he saw their man sitting at the table looking very much awake and well.

"You're up, that's wonderful," Faramir said as he placed his pack down.

Boromir walked over and clapped his brothers shoulder in greeting.

"No use talking to him, can't speak a lick of anything. He's been up about 6 days now and we've just gotten by with gesturing. I think he may be…"

Boromir looked at the man at the table who was staring at a book Boromir had taken off the shelf.

"Simple?" Faramir finished.

Boromir frowned. "I don't know. The words coming out are nothing I've heard before and he keeps talking to himself. Did you get help?"

"I'm assuming you are referring to myself as help," Gandalf said with a smile as he appeared in the doorway, finishing up getting the horses some water and feed.

"Gandalf the Grey, it's been a long time," Boromir said in greeting, although he did not bow or offer his hand. He had met the wizard a few times but his brother was closer to him than he was.

"Ah, yes it has," Gandalf said as he turned his attention to the other occupant in the room.

From what Gandalf could see, the wounds were healing well and the bruises were fading. Gandalf walked forward to the table, seeing the cautious eyes watching him.

"Good evening, Sir, I see you are doing much better than Faramir told me," Gandalf said as he took a seat across from the man.

Harry scooted his chair back slightly, the wood scraping heavily against the stone, looking between the two new visitors and Boromir. His instinct told him to be wary of strangers, as always.

"Harry, stop that," Boromir said with a sigh.

"Is that your name, Harry?" Gandalf said with a smile. "My name is Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey."

"Gandalf…" Harry echoed as he looked closely at the man before him that reminded him of the old Headmaster of Hogwarts. The robes, the hat, the beard. Could Harry even hope that this was someone he could trust? Boromir seemed calm, which was something at least.

At first, Harry had tried to leave but every time Boromir had stopped him with a firm hand and would would proceed to speak to him in a language that Harry couldn't understand. One thing was that Boromir wasn't about to let Harry rush off. The sword the man sharpened at night also let Harry know the consequences of trying to escape again, whether Boromir had said that he'd use it on him or not.

The following days had Harry following Boromir around, helping him with anything that he could manage in his injured state. That meant brushing down the horse and cleaning the stables whilst Boromir chopped wood. He would help clean the farmhouse after every meal Boromir would prepare and Harry had tried to learn the words that Boromir would point out to him. He would even sometimes ask the stoic man questions about things. It was a slow process, but it stopped Harry from going insane thinking about where he even was.

Now that he was faced with a man who suspiciously looked the part of a wizard, Harry didn't know if it was cruel stab at his lack of magic or a miracle that brought the man before him.

"Are you a wizard? You look suspiciously like one," Harry said as his hands gripped the edges of his chair.

Gandalf frowned. "That seems to be a strange language there."

"So it's not Elvish?" Boromir asked as he leant up against the wall near the door so that Harry wouldn't bolt for it.

"No. It is not any dialect I have heard before," Gandalf frowned as he stood, grasping his staff, making his way around the table.

Harry saw this and immediately pushed further away on his chair, his hands coming up in defence before him. From his hands grew a bright white light, expanding out from the palms and growing before growing invisible.

"Oh my," Gandalf said, startled as he stared at the young man. Raising his staff he gently tapped the air, a few feet from where Harry was. A bright spark of blue rippled from where the staff hit the air.

Harry choked back a sob. His magic had reacted. Instinctively yes, but it was the only thing he'd felt since he'd first awoken.

Boromir straightened, his hand already clasping the handle of his dagger which was sheathed at his hip. Was Harry a threat?

Faramir just watched it all happen in awe. What was the chances that they'd saved another Wizard. From what Gandalf had told him when he was young was that there was not many of them, only 5. Gandalf knew all of them, so their stranger wasn't one of them.

Harry lifted his hands to his face, feeling the tingle of magic. He had only used wandless magic a handful of times and that was in the frenzy of battle. So why was it that he had been able to draw his magic, yet he couldn't feel it. It wasn't the same feeling as before, with his magic within his very soul.

This magic felt different and yet, familiar.

"Quite astounding," Gandalf lamented, "it seems you are in possession of magic, yet you are not one of us."

"Us…?" Harry asked as his gaze was torn from from his hands.

"Wizards of the Council," Gandalf said although the voice in Harry's head whispered another name.

 _Maia._

Harry's eyes proceeding to roll back in his head as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to everyone for your lovely reviews! I really do try to write stories that are a little different from what is currently out there so I'm so glad to hear that people are enjoying this!**

 **Here is another chapter just because I'm so happy with the responses, the favs and the follows for this! All the love to you guys - you make it worth writing stories!**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Boromir rushed to Harry's side as he suddenly collapsed. Faramir followed his brother, both quickly stopped by _the_ unseen barrier.

"Gandalf, what is this?" Faramir asked as they stood, unable to get closer to Harry.

"I believe that your mysterious man you found washed ashore is indeed one of my kind," Gandalf said, leaning against his staff. His mouth was turned up in a smile.

"Is that a good thing?" Faramir asked as he saw the smile.

"Oh yes, very. If his presence here means anything, it is that there will be a very good reason why you two found him."

Boromir was silent as the conversation went on.

Harry was a Wizard, just like Gandalf? But he hasn't used magic for the past few days, Boromir felt no real threat from him as in a fight, he knew he'd be able to defeat Harry with ease. But magic, that was a whole other story and power that he had nothing to defend himself with.

"Well, he seemed surprised when he did, whatever this is," Faramir commented, waving his hand against the barrier again, watching with awe at the shimmer of air.

"Yes. I do believe that this was instinctive, his mind thinking that I was a threat and causing him to throw up this shield." Gandalf went to sit back down again, "I assume we won't be able to get closer till he awakes."

"I don't like this," Boromir said with a frown. "How come you have never heard of another Wizard? Yet, we find one washed ashore of River Anduin and he cannot speak a word of any language you know?"

Faramir did agree with his brother. It was strange that Gandalf had no idea what language Harry spoke.

"I do not know everything there is to know, Boromir son of Denethor," Gandalf said with a frown, "although I will happily take the task, once our young man wakes, of finding out where he has come from."

Boromir merely nodded before he turned and walked out the door.

Faramir watched his brother go. He didn't have a good feeling about this.

 **/ / /**

Harry awoke to the two new men sitting at the table, both turning at the groan that escaped his lips.

"Good to see you awake," Faramir said, gesturing to Harry and making some wild hand movements to mimic waking up.

Harry stifled a laugh at the effort the man put in, which only spurred him on to make more gestures and babble in that unknown language.

Harry looked around, noting the absence of the familiar face he'd grown accustomed to. "Boromir?"

Faramir pointed at the door. "He left to go back to Gondor."

Harry didn't understand a word, but understood that Boromir was outside at the very least. Harry got to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants. His heart was full with the knowledge he had accessed his power, even if he hadn't known how he did it. He couldn't feel his magic even now, but he felt safer in the company of these strangers knowing that in an emergency he'd be able to protect himself.

Looking at the two men, he could see the similarity of the younger man to Boromir. They were obviously related somehow, and Harry could tell they were closer in age, than in comparison to Boromir. The older man, with his long beard and dirty-grey robes was still holding his staff, a pipe in his mouth which curled the smoke in strange patterns, swirling before disappearing.

"Harry," Gandalf said slowly, "do you know how you came to be here?"

Harry watched them as the older man spoke again. His brow furrowed at the unknown words. It was then he stumbled as a voice spoke in his head again.

 _You can understand me this way, yes? I could see before that you heard my true voice._

He could hear what the man was saying to him! Albeit it was only in his head, but he had understood.

 _I can hear you!_

Gandalf nodded his head and asked his first question again.

 _Tell me, young Wizard, how you came to be in this realm?_

Harry tried to explain what happened and Gandalf nodded along. Faramir was completely stumped by the two Wizard's strange silent conversation, even if both were animated and using facial expressions and hand gestures.

 _Quite interesting indeed. You have come from an unknown realm, one that does not boarder our lands. It seems you were brought here for a purpose, Young Harry._

Harry's nose crinkled at the title he'd been given. Gandalf chuckled sensing Harry's uncomfortableness being called such a thing.

He felt a deep loss at the prospect of being in another world. His friends would think he was dead from the fall, no body to find within the depths of the ocean. Would they mourn him? Would they set a grave up next to his parents for him? Would Hermione know he was somewhere else, transported to another realm?

It was all a bit too much to take in.

Yet, another, larger part of him felt a large sense of relief. He was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, or Thrice now. He was unknown here but to the three occupants of the room. Yes he seemed to be the minority again as a Wizard but at least his name did not carry such a heavy burden. He was free here. Alone, yes, but free, which was all he wished for in Britain.

Gandalf sensed the internal commotion Harry was having and let the boy have some thoughts.

When Harry seemed to calm, Gandalf spoke again. _My apologies. You are young, however, I have no doubt about your powers._

Harry cocked his head to the side in thought. _So you say I am one of you, but what does that mean? How come I can't sense my magic anymore, yet I am able to use it only when threatened?_

 _From what you have said about using magic in your realm, you used to have a supply within you, born with it. We Maiar, we were once Kin to the Valar. We are… how would say this. Beings? Spirits? Something greater than this human plane at the very least._

 _Then why are you here?_ Harry asked.

 _I and four others were sent by the Valar to assist in the fight against the fallen, Sauron. He was once like us, a Kin to the Valar but he was corrupted. He has been wrecking havoc through these lands for many years, gaining power once more to fight. I believe that you were sent here by the Valar to assist. How, I do not know. But it is far from coincident that you should travel to our realm and be found by the Steward sons of Gondor, of all the people._

 _Is that Boromir and Faramir?_

 _Yes, their father sits within the White Halls of Gondor until the true king returns._

 _Merlin, of all the places I had to come it had to be a place with a war and kings and evil god-like beings._

Gandalf chuckled and puffed on his pipe.

 _Do not worry, Young Harry. I shall help train you to access magic. Whilst it is different from your old ways, you shall learn quickly that we Maiar wield our magic through the earth and air, fire and water. All things living have magic, do they not? Your previous being was a store for magic. Here, the whole world around you is magic._

Harry nodded, surprised and dare he think, excited at the prospect of this new way to learn magic.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourites and followed!**

 **The story is finally picking up some pace with Harry being introduced to a lot more familiar faces as he goes. I look forward in the coming chapters to see your responses to the meetings!**

 **I just want to say as well that as this story starts many years before the LoTR arc there will be some time skips coming up which will be marked with the year on them. I don't think any of you want to read about Harry and friends travelling for months on end through Middle Earth.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter x**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Harry and Gandalf had been training every day and he was slowly getting stronger.

It had taken a week or so to fully heal from his injuries with the help of Faramir and Gandalf with their salves and herb drinks (which were foul in Harry's opinion, just like potions).

Gandalf had started with simple meditating, a feat which was hard enough as it was to sit still after being comatose for over 3 weeks by what Faramir said.

Gandalf would act as the translator which made Harry feel less helpless day by day. He was still slowly learning the language, Harry now being taught by Faramir as Boromir had left for Gondor.

From what Harry gathered from Gandalf was the two brothers were the son of the Steward, a man sitting in place of a King of this area. When Harry questioned where the King was, Gandalf just puffed his pipe and began the long tale of men and eleves and a war.

Harry was intrigued to say the least. A war unlike the one he lived through, but similar as well. Seemed no mater which dimension he was in, there would always be men hungry for power.

Between training Harry to harness magic, Gandalf urged him to learn to read and in turn, provided a book which was an in-depth history to their world.

Harry learnt letters and words as he went, always quick to learn and only spurned on by his need to live in this world unaided.

If he were to travel this realm and one day find a way home, he was going to do it as if he'd lived here his whole life as a local.

 **/ / /**

Boromir eventually returned as well with more clothes and food. He'd walked into the farmhouse, setting down a bag of potatoes as he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind.

"Hallo. Your journey...safe?"

Boromir quirked a brow in amusement at seeing the smile on the man's face. Gandalf chuckled from his spot in a chair near the fire.

"Yes, my journey was safe. I'm impressed with how quickly you are catching on to our language."

Harry frowned, only catching some of it but he knew the word 'you' and 'language' so he smiled again.

"Gandalf...try hard to teach me," Harry said as he stumbled over the pronunciation. "Faramir too. Help me."

Boromir let a small smile grace his face. "Keep up the hard work and you'll soon be fluent."

Harry grinned broadly. "Harry work hard."

Said man went back to the table and his books again, pouring over them diligently as his fingers traced the words as he tried to read them.

Time seemed to fly by and with each passing day, Harry grew more knowledgeable in magic, his strength was returning and his learning of the language enabled him to hold conversations at length. Yes, said conversations were only on the weather and the scenery, but it was a start.

With this time, his relationships with the men who would come and go from the farmhouse were growing.

Gandalf was the mentor that Harry wished Dumbledore had been. Gandalf did not hold back information to keep him safe, rather he encouraged Harry to learn to find the answer himself. If he needed help, Gandalf would readily give it. He was kind and patient and gave praise and encouragement when needed.

If Harry needed someone to speak with, Gandalf was there with all his wisdom to help him come to terms with his passing into this new world. Harry had even willingly shared his past with the man and the role he played in the Wizarding War. The man had listened and offered him kind words, but never once undermined Harry's ability, instead offering him hope as he had been chosen by the Valar to be here. They would find the reason why, together.

Faramir reminded Harry so much of his first and dear friend Ronald Weasley that at first it had hurt. Their physical appearance was vastly different but their personalities were similar. The unwavering loyalty, the friendly grin that was slightly lopsided, the eagerness to help him whenever he was stuck, the bickering that he didn't understand with his brother.

But, as the weeks passed Harry was able to see more to the man. The way he was guarded when it came to his father, or the way he spoke about his brother and their kingdom of Gondor with such pride, the way he ruffled Harry's hair whenever they were able to have a conversation without Harry stumbling which made the Wizard grin from ear to ear. Faramir was an unexpected friend.

Boromir was a whole another story. Boromir took it on himself to teach Harry how to handle a sword so between the reading and magic, he would spar with the soldier. It was gruelling and hard and unlike any other previous training he'd done, but it was satisfying.

Seeing his own strength improve until he finally was able to get a win over Boromir had him elated. The smirk which had crossed Boromir's face as Harry pressed the sword against the Gondorian's neck had his own grin widening. Harry was fast, agile, and flexible and so he soon learnt how to use that to his advantage against the larger, broader male.

 **/ / /**

It had been months since Harry had first awoken in this strange land. If what Gandalf had said was true, he had been here nearly 7 months.

He was fluent in the language now and could hold a conversation about the Great War or the customs of the Dwarves of Moria, or about the politics of Gondor and Rohan - the two realms of men. He still spent many days reading books which Faramir or Boromir would bring back from their trips home to Minas Tirith.

He had fashioned himself a staff of his own, smaller and more in the image of a wand which amused Gandalf to no end. It was a gnarly length of wood with knots formed in ridges which fit well beneath his fingers. It was longer than his last wand, but still able to fit up his sleeve.

Gandalf had commissioned from the tailor in Minas Tirith some riding clothes. Harry had foregone the robes which Gandalf agreed with, it would point too much to being a Wizard. He instead had a few pullover tunics in shades of white and grey. They were slightly open around the neck, with a tie at the top to keep it together above a key hole just beneath his collarbone.

A coat made of a rich black was the more formal part of his attire, with a tailored waist and tight cuffed arms that were just loose enough to keep his staff in a holster against his forearm.

Gandalf had sewn with a swish of his staff a length of embroidered runes along the hem of the coat which hung around Harry's knees. It was done in a dark green silken thread, to keep him safe (or so Gandalf had said).

Two pair of leather hide riding pants fit his slim build to a tee. When he questioned how they fit so well, Gandalf and just chuckled and stated magic. Harry had shivered and was eerily reminded of the weird tape measure Madame Malkin had used which had occasionally measured the more...unsavoury places.

In time, Gandalf had suggested to travel to a place called Hobbiton as he has someone he had to see there. He had explained to Harry that the area was also relatively quite so they could still practice without worry of anyone seeing them.

Gandalf was still adamant that Harry keep his abilities hidden and to pose as his helper. It would be an advantage to keep his presence in the world under wraps and Harry had to agree once he had learnt of the violent history of Middle Earth.

So with two horses saddled and laden with packs, Harry said goodbye to the farmhouse and with it, the two Gondorian males he'd come to call his friends.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favourited and followed this story.**

 **I hope you enjoy the next instalment!**

 **There will be some time-skips from now onwards between all the travelling that Harry and Gandalf will be doing and also to get us to the LoTR storyline too!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

 _Year 3007_

Harry had struck an odd friendship with Frodo Baggins.

Gandalf had left him in Hobbiton after their journey, saying he would be back in a few months but for Harry to relax here. Most of the Hobbits had been wary of him as a stranger but with time he had proven himself a friend, plus he kept to himself at Bag End with Frodo and their visitors.

The hobbit was a bit of a troublemaker even in his age and frequently liked to pull pranks with the assistance of his cheeky cousins, Meriadoc and Peregrin. Harry had been quick to retaliate and it had started the never ending prank war. It had been the best way to be introduced to the lot of them.

They soon learnt that surprise would have no effect on the young man, so the tactics had escalated to straight out attacks which would be avoided with some quick evasive moves. The hobbits were stuck besides themselves on how to trick Harry. So far all their attempts had failed. Harry found it immensely satisfying seeing their scrunched faces after each foiled attempt.

Harry slowly learn the way of life of the Hobbits and was surprised with how simple it was.

He spent the time between study and reading with Frodo fishing by the creek or learning about plants from Hamfast Gamgee. His children were utterly adorable as well, all blonde curls and dimpled cheeks. He had many a dinner with the Gamgee family, and Harry found himself and Sam getting along famously, chatting about the simplest things from cooking to the effects of medicinal plants.

The months flew by here and for the longest time, Harry truly did feel at peace here. It was quiet and the people kept to themselves but they knew how to have a good time as the sun went down and the drinks were passed around.

Harry had never laughed harder than when he had seen Merry skull a tankard of mead but have a violent sneezing fit in which the contents of said tankard had blasted from the hobbits nostrils. Of course Harry soon helped soothe the pain of the burning nostrils but it had taken him a good ten minutes for his belly to stop aching from laughing. The next day Harry had his tea spiked with some type of hot sauce which had his tongue numb for the rest of the day.

After 3 months, as promised, Gandalf returned and Harry had bid his small friends goodbye, with a promise to return as soon as he could.

 **/ / /**

Harry had started to adapt a few of the spells he knew from home, surprising Gandalf with some of their usefulness.

The first had been the umbrella charm which had spurted from his wand and settled in a dome above himself and his horse - a product of being miserably wet for days before. His magic had reacted once more on instinct as Harry lamented to himself the wish to be dry. Gandalf had soon copied Harry and it had made their journey forward easier and, thankfully, drier.

The second time Harry had willed it one night when he was on watch whilst Gandalf was sleeping. Harry had been practicing to see if he could do any sort of wards here, ones of protection. Gandalf hadn't heard of such magic, rather the Istari magic was simpler and a lot of it was for fighting.

When Harry had willed the magic around him, bending and forming in the very air itself a transparent shield, one which would be triggered by movement and would set off an alarm - essentially a Caterwauling Charm. He had made the mistake of being too specific in his magic however, as Gandalf rolled over and set off the charm, scaring both of them at the deafening screaming sound. He had learnt to make the adjustments with time to replicate almost all the protection spells and it helped Harry sleep a little easier out in the open.

The third time Harry didn't classify as magic, but it was a little bit of home. He had found an injured falcon that had broken its wing, trapped in a bramble bush. It looked like a falcon to Harry, with its hooked beak and brown feathers but the longer tail feathers with streaks of red showed it to be a different breed.

Different world, different animals. _Idiot._ Harry thought to himself, Gandalf chuckling at the unspoken words.

With some coaxing and some dried meat, Harry had eventually got the bird to not attack his fingers as he set the wing and with Gandalf's help, healed it. When finished, the bird had nipped at Harry's ear and had taken flight.

The falcon, for whatever reason, returned days later, carrying a dead hare in its talons. Harry had felt a pang in his heart as the bird landed on his shoulder and began to preen its healed wing.

"You should name him," Gandalf had suggested one night around their small fire, huddled into a cave as the rain outside poured heavily.

Harry looked at the bird that was sitting on his shoulder, his fingers scratching at the feathers on the chest. The falcon seemed to look at him with those eerie ember coloured eyes as if he knew what was happening.

Harry took a moment to think.

"Arnis," Harry said softly, stroking the bird's feathers.

Gandalf smiled.

 **/ / /**

The journey to Rivendell had been rough with terrible weather. Even with magic to keep the rain off their coats and horses, it didn't stop the mud which coated boots when they dismounted or the wind which whipped at their hair and turned cheeks pink.

When they finally arrived Harry had been awe struck by the sight. He'd never seen such a beautiful place, added to the fact the magic here felt so old and powerful, it was breathtaking.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Harry," Gandalf said from his horse as they rode across the bridge to the elven city.

As they approached, a group exited the building, long robes trailing behind as they came to greet them. As they came closer, Harry's breath caught in his throat.

They were beautiful, there was no other way to describe it.

They dismounted and Harry was able to see them closer up. Pointed ears were the first thing he was drawn to, reminding him of Goblins and Cornish Pixies.

"Welcome Gandalf the Grey, old friend," Elrond said as he approached, holding out his hands in welcome. "Who is your companion?"

Gandalf took Elrond's hands in his own, "It is good to see you as well, Lord Elrond. It has been too long since my last visit. My companion is Harry, my assistant. I have taken him in as an orphan from Gondor."

"Rivendell welcomes you Harry, son of none," Elrond said as Harry winced.

 _That was rude._ Harry thought to Gandalf and said man chuckled.

 _He means no harm, elves are very forward in their speech. He said that only in response to you being an orphan._ Gandalf replied.

 _Still. Not the best of first introductions._

Gandalf smiled to Harry and guestured for him to walk closer, around his horse.

"Thank you for your warm welcome, Lord Elrond" Harry said as he looked at the elves before him, "although I assure you I did have parents, ones who died to protect me. I do protest at the title you have so handed me."

Elrond seemed taken aback and the two elves standing behind him started to laugh. Harry was surprised at this, but held his ground.

Gandalf just shook his head with a smile.

"I do apologise for my Harry, he's a bit stubborn. He is still learning." Gandalf said seriously but his smile betrayed him.

"Adar, he is right, you shouldn't have said that," one of the elves behind Elrond said.

Harry looked at him and the elf next to him and could see they were twins. The identical faces of the males were handsome, with sharp features and long dark hair that fell around their shoulders and chest.

"I apologise, I did not mean to insult a guest," Elrond said softly and Harry nodded at his apology, he was being sincere. "These are my sons, Elrohir and Elladan."

"Hello," Harry said with a smile.

The twins sent him smiles in response.

Elrond continued, "and this is Glorfindel and Erestor."

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said politely at the introductions.

"Come, you must be weary," Glorfindel said softly, his long blonde hair shimmering like molten silver in the light. Harry was rather entranced.

"We will have someone tend to your beasts," Elrond stated as he motioned for two elves to come forward and take their horses, "your packs will be taken to your quarters. Now we shall dine in celebration of your return to Rivendell, Gandalf, and for your new companion."

Elrond led the group back over the bridge. Harry leant over to look at how far them were up, the rushing of the waterfall echoing in his ears.

"Careful you don't fall," Elladan said, startling Harry into stumbling and swearing in his native tongue. His clumsiness was rewarded with chuckles from the elf twins.

"Gandalf's letter to father said you were wanting to study Quenya, yes?" Elrohir said.

"Uh yes...um..?" Harry said, walking with them as he looked at the twin who spoke.

"Elrohir," said elf said, sensing what Harry wanted to ask.

"Elrohir," Harry let the name roll off his tongue, "yes, there was many books in the language of the elves that Gandalf said I should read. He thought it best that I learn from those who spoke it best."

"You will have Glorfindel teach you then, he taught all of us, including our sister who you will meet in the hall," Elladan replied, leading the way. "He may not look it, but he has lived many lifetimes."

Harry nodded. "Lifetimes?"

"Yes, he's an elf of old. He is famous in our stories, a great warrior and leader. He has been reborn many times and now, he's old and is just a boring teacher." Elrohir said with a laugh.

"I heard that, Elrohir," Glorfindel said from the group walking ahead, not turning around, "I may be old but I'm not hard of hearing."

Harry laughed outright at the twins.


	10. Chapter 10

**Another chapter for all you guys!**

 **Thank you for all the reviews, favs and follows! So happy people are liking it so much.**

 **Hope you all enjoy x**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 _Year 3008_

Harry and Gandalf had been in a Rivendell for many months.

As had been said, Glorfindel had become his teacher on Quenya and some Sindarin (which the elves of the other realms spoke) and the customs and history of the Elves. Harry found their extensive history endlessly fascinating. He studied their history against the Books of Men, finding the differences in the tales and questioning Glorfindel who had even been present for some of the history.

As his knowledge grew, so did his respect and appreciation for Middle Earth and the realms grew.

Elrond had told him tales of his life and the downfall of man. He had told Harry stories of Gandalf and his feats which Harry had enjoyed, since Gandalf rarely boasted about his power. It grew Harry's respect for his mentor.

He would sometimes sit with Bilbo Baggins too, the uncle of his friend Frodo and they would exchange tales of adventures.

After his study in the library in the main building, Harry would always find Elrohir and Elladan awaiting him at the entrance. The twins reminded him of a pair of redheads back home with their mannerisms and cheeky-side.

Harry soon found out they were considered to be the same age to him, essentially, even though by then they were over 100 years old. Harry had scoffed at that.

He himself had grown not just with knowledge and speech, but in general as well. He had filled out a bit and hit another slight growth spurt which added another inch or so to his height. He was still slight and lean, but he kept up training with the twins to keep him in shape. His hair was longer too, which Arwen loved as she would put braids into his shoulder length hair, adorning it with beads and trinkets. The twins had teased him immensely for that.

He had also kept his magic under wraps as per Gandalf's instruction. It was soon shattered though, with some accidental magic.

Elrohir had been a right pest that whole afternoon and well into the evening, poking Harry and teasing.

"Come now _Gwinig_ , don't pull such a face, it is too ugly for your pretty face," Elrohir said from Harry's on their bench seat in the dining hall.

It was dinner and Harry was grumpy and tired from the day.

He had thoroughly had his butt kicked by the twins at sparring and his archery had been abysmal (he was pretty sure he wasn't going to get it right at all, not matter how hard he practiced). Then Arnis had been pecking his face when he had tried to take a nap in the afternoon, when he had shooed the bird away, the pecking just got more ferocious. He was being a grump, he knew, but he was human after all and unlike all the beautiful, graceful creatures around him, he was allowed to have bad days.

Harry batted away Elrohir's hand that poked at his cheek, settling on pulling apart and eating his bread roll.

" _Gwinig_ ," Elrohir said with a whine.

"You know I hate that name," Harry said with a glare, which was only responded to with a wide grin.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ella, tell your brother he's being a right pain in my backside."

"Brother, stop annoying him," Elladan said as he sat on the other side of Harry, having finished eating he rested his chin in his hand, his elbow settling on the table.

"But I like seeing our little _Gwinig_ all flustered," Elrohir said again, brushing hair away from Harry's neck as he poked at the ear there.

" _Amin delotha lle_ ," Harry growled.

"You don't hate me," Elrohir replied sweetly, continuing with his petting and poking.

"Stop it," Harry growled out under his breath, "can you not leave me alone to eat my food in peace?"

Elrohir chuckled. "Me, leave you alone? Never."

"Just great," Harry muttered to himself in his native tongue, trying to ignore all the words and petting and poking coming from the twin next to him.

Then the poking started at the scar above his eye, the finger tracing the lightning bolt scar, saying that nickname over and over to get his attention. "Your scar is so strange."

 _Strange._

 _Freak. Freak. **Freak**._

"Will. You. Just. Stop." Harry whipped around to glare at the elf, the glass goblet in his hand shattering and the candles that lit the hall blew out all at once.

"What happened?" Elrond said from his head at the table. Luckily, Harry and the twins were seated away from the elders and the raised platform they sat on.

Gandalf stood from the table and with a tap of his staff on the ground, the candles were re-lit. He excused himself and walked down to Harry.

"Harry, take a deep breath," Gandalf said softly, trying to unfurl Harry's clenched fist. Harry did as he was told and let his hand go slack for Gandalf to inspect.

Elrohir and Elladan were shocked, but soon snapped out of it at the sight of Harry's torn up hand, the shards of glass cutting deep into his palm and pads of his fingers.

Elladan used a clean cloth napkin to wrap around the hand, being gentle as to not push the glass any further into his skin. Elrohir was frozen where he sat, unable to will his body into moving.

Gandalf helped Harry stand, who was still silent, leading him from the hall to the House of Healing.

The twins watched them go, Elrohir's face was one of pain as he made to try and follow, but Elladan's hand on his shoulder made him stop.

"I believe that our guest has been injured," Elrond said calmly as he stood, his robes sweeping out as he walked out the grand doors, but not before sending his son a look that said they would be talking later. Arwen glared at them and shook her head from her place.

Glorfindel sighed and stood, addressing the elves still within the hall. "What you all witnessed will be kept to within these halls. Clear?"

The elves remained silent but all nodded.

In the Hall of Healing, Elrond had tended to Harry's hand quietly and gently, taking time to pull all the shards of glass out.

"Gandalf, did you not trust us to keep Harry and his magic secret?" Elrond asked to said man who was leaning on his staff.

"I feared that Saruman being known to come by unannounced could cause issues. Harry was found in Gondor by Denthor's boys, washed ashore," Gandalf began, "he was brought here by the Valar, as another Maia, but none of us were alerted to this, let alone Saruman the White. I believe that this was for a purpose. I am sure you know of my suspicions."

"Yes. I have seen glimpses of the fall of Saruman the White, but it will still not be for many years," Elrond replied.

"I had instructed Harry to keep his magic hidden, to keep him safe," Gandalf said softly, looking at Harry who was still quiet. He could hear the thoughts running through the young man's head and he knew why he had ended up being so affected by his scar being touched.

"I agree with your concern. Rivendell will hold this secret within her walls." Elrond said as he pulled the last shard out, slathering on a salve across the free bleeding cuts.

Harry didn't even wince. His thoughts were miles away. While he had been in this world, he had kept his scars to himself, only Gandalf knew of them and the Gondorian males had the tact not to ask. The hobbits had asked but Harry said it was a long story for another time.

It was a dark reminder of his past. While he was proud of the mark as a show of the love his mother had for him, it was another thing for people touching it and making comments. He'd had enough of that in Hogwarts.

He didn't mean to snap like that at Elrohir, he knew his friend was purposefully trying to annoy him, it wasn't a malicious act intending to hurt him. It was more due to his already terrible mood, if it were any other day he wouldn't have minded.

"Lord Elrond?" Harry said, finally, startling the elf and wizard in the room.

"Yes Harry?" Elrond said as he wrapped a bandage around the hand.

"Please apologise to Elrohir and Elladan for my actions earlier, and also to the others. I didn't mean it."

"It was not your fault, Harry. I will be having a stern talk with my sons about their behaviours, I assure you, I do not hold you to blame for your reaction."

Harry frowned at that. "Please do not be too hard on them, I was just in a bad mood… And thank you, for cleaning up my hand." Harry added as a side thought.

"It still does not excuse their actions," Elrond stated as he finished dressing the hand. "Go rest now."

Harry nodded and left for his room. Once he changed out of his day clothes into his night ones, gingerly using his injured hand, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.

 **/ / /**

The next morning Harry had been awoken by the twins sitting on his bed, Elrohir looking worse for wear as his eyes were puffy and tinged red.

"I apologise for my actions, Harry, I did not know you would be so hurt by it and cause yourself pain," Elrohir said, his shoulders slumped and his hair hanging around his face.

Harry wiped the sleep from his eyes. It was far too early to be having this conversation, but seeing the state of the elf he knew that he hadn't slept. Elladan looked no better, dishevelled and his face sad. Harry felt his heart quench at the thought of the pain he had caused the elves, who usually were such resilient and happy men.

"It's fine 'Ro, I shouldn't have snapped like I did. I was so tired from the day," Harry said with a small smile, settling up against the headboard. "Although that isn't an excuse to be rude to you both. I apologise."

"Don't you apologise," Elladan said firmly, "this was Elrohir's mistake and he should be held to it."

Elrohir nodded at his brothers' words.

"Well, I forgive you Elrohir," Harry said with a smile.

Elrohir nodded, his head still bowed in shame.

Harry couldn't comprehend why they felt so deeply about this, it was only a small incident yet it was almost as if he had died.

"Come here 'Ro," Harry said as he opened up his arms, smiling in encouragement.

Elrohir moved over, embracing Harry tenderly and softly. Harry returned the hug, holding the larger male in his arms, his head resting against the elf's shoulder.

Harry had never been a big 'hugger' as he found it always a bit awkward. However, his time spent with the hobbits had him inundated with constant hugs. He had learnt the comfort they can offer.

"It's all right now, I'm fine," Harry said softly to the elf, smiling over the dark head resting against him to Elladan. Harry held out a hand, knowing the quiet elf would have been feeling just as guilty for the incident.

"I promise one day I'll tell you everything," Harry said to them both.

His eyes caught Gandalf who was in the doorway, smiling.

Harry smiled back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi everyone! Thank you all for the lovely reviews, over 100 now! Glad to see so many people enjoying it! I do apologise for the wait I'm actually travelling at the moment with family and before that I had just started a new job (the usual hectic life happens issue).**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 _Year 3008_

Harry lay out in the gardens by the top of the waterfall, his eyes closed and his hands tucked beneath his head.

It was the perfect day, barely any clouds and a soft breeze was blowing which ruffled his hair against his ears.

Harry blinked as the sun on his face was suddenly gone. He saw Arwen bent over above him, a smile on her face.

"Can I join you?" Arwen asked gently.

Harry smiled and pat the spot next to himself. "Of course."

Arwen lay down next to him, closing her eyes too as Harry went back to his previous position, a smile on his face.

They lay in silence for a while.

"Are you happy, Harry?" Arwen asked, breaking the silence.

Harry turned his head to look at her, confusion on his face.

Arwen looked at him and elaborated further. "I overheard my brothers speaking of you last night. Of what you told them. How you came to be here."

"Oh." Was all Harry could manage.

"I am not asking you to tell me, do not worry," Arwen said softly, reaching to touch Harry's wrist gently. "I just wish you to be happy. I want you to always smile and to feel that this place is where you do not have to hide anything about yourself."

Harry rolled to his stomach to look at his friend, his eyes searching hers. He saw nothing but the care she had always shown him.

"I… I don't know what I want anymore. I know that my destiny has brought me here but even in my old world destiny was controlling me. I want to be free yet I want to be bound to the fates to help. It's not in my nature to run away or to deny help when it's asked." Harry said softly, laying his head into his palm as his elbows propped up his head.

Arwen rested her hand against his arm but did not respond.

Harry took a deep breath and continued. "I am scared that I will never be able to go home and also never find a place here that I will truly feel at peace with."

"You will always have a home here." Arwen said softly, although her eyes seemed to be far away. "One day soon you will find one to call home. Only then will you find peace and be free."

Harry looked at her, puzzled. One? "You alright?"

"Oh, yes," Arwen said as she seemed to come back from whatever place she was in. Harry was reminded of Luna and her strange predictions.

"Thank you for trying to make me feel better," Harry said honestly.

"You are a friend, I only wish for your happiness," Arwen replied.

"And I yours," Harry said with a smile, which was returned. "From what I've heard about this mysterious Ranger is anything to go by then I need not worry."

Arwen lightly hit his arm but laughed joyously. "Do not listen to a word my brothers tell you. They're only jealous because they try too hard for attention yet none but you pays them any."

Harry laughed. "That is true. Your brothers are rather keen on causing mischief than on settling down."

"I think Father prefers that. We are still but elflings in his eyes," Arwen replied. "He wants us to be carefree until the time comes when we can no longer."

Harry smiled sadly. He always did forget that these beings were hundreds of years old but they were still considered young in comparison to elves like Glorfindel who had lived many centuries of life.

"Hopefully not for many more years." Harry said, although in his heart he knew that was wrong. Something was coming, stirring in the distant lands. He could feel it, and he was sure the elves felt it too.

They lay in silence for the rest of the afternoon.

/ / /

Harry was sparring with Glorfindel, the blonde elf twirling twin blade swords against Harry's one and shield.

Harry parried a blow with his sword, bashing against the coming sword with his shield as he ducked under another blow towards him.

He was sweating and he couldn't push one annoying wet strand of hair out of his eyes as his hands were busy. He tried to wipe it away as he danced backwards to avoid another swift swing of a blade.

"Raise your shield higher, do not let me see an opening," Glorfindel ordered, looking unfazed by the exercise and still as perfectly ordered as ever. Even his robes still looked freshly pressed.

Of course this only made Harry pissed.

He knew what he did wrong as soon as he swung his sword.

He overstepped and soon enough, he was pinned to the ground beneath Glorfindel who held both swords to his neck.

"You grew too irked and left me with the opportunity to strike. You need patience, Harry." Glorfindel chastised.

Harry puffed and looked up at the elf above him with a glare, about to open his mouth to retort but it died on his lips. He realised the position they were in and his ears tinged pink. This man who looked so perfect in every sense was too close for comfort. Harry quickly looked away.

Glorfindel looked confused at that.

It was the whistles from the other side of the sparring ring that had Harry clearing his throat, eyes looking anywhere but above him and Glorfindel merely smiled a small, all-knowing smile as he stood, understanding suddenly.

"Don't let us interrupt you two," Elrohir said with a snicker as Elladan smiled secretively.

Harry pushed himself up from the ground, unwinding his hand from his shield. "It's not like that."

"I was teaching Harry evasive moves for battle," Glorfindel said as he brushed down his robes, straightening his collar. "Something that the two of you must practice as well if your recent training is any indication."

The twins looked down at that. It was now Harry's turn to smirk.

"Thank you for your time today Glorfindel," Harry said with a short bow.

Glorfindel nodded. "I will see you the same time tomorrow for training."

Harry kept his head bowed as Glorfindel swept away. Harry was only jostled when he felt an elbow to his ribs.

Harry glared at Elrohir who wiggled his brows. "You seemed to like that very much, little _Gwinig_."

Harry pushed the elf back who only laughed as he easily righted himself. Harry huffed at his failed attempt. Stupid elves and their stupid skills at being smooth.

"It was just training," Harry replied, picking up his sword and shield to put away.

"Doesn't mean you can't enjoy it," Elladan said, grinning when Harry shot him a withering look.

"The both of you are annoying," Harry said, "if you're not careful I'll spell you both pink."

"Pink is rather my colour don't you think, Ella?" Elrohir said with a flourish of his hands, pretending to dance.

"Why I believe it is very much my colour as well," Elladan responded with his own twirl.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at their antics.

"Come now, let us go cause some mischief for our dear Father," Elrohir said as he slid his arm over Harry's shoulders, pulling him to his side as Elladan threw his arm around Harry's other side.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi all, hope you enjoy a new chapter! I have been away on holidays with family, enjoying all the little moments with them. I hope everyone has had a lovely christmas and new years!**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 _Year 3009_

"Lift your arms higher, good, now pull back, steady, steady," Estel said gently from behind Harry, the young Istari pulling the arrow back and holding it within his fingers.

"Now breathe out and release," Estel instructed and Harry did as he was told.

He watched as the arrow flew forward, spinning as it hit the target. It wasn't anywhere near the center but it was better than any other attempt he'd had, those were usually flying all over Rivendell. When Harry was in the archery range the elves knew to keep an eye out for any flying objects.

The sound of clapping brought Harry out of his little moment of happiness.

"Long time no see old man," Harry said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"I've missed you too, Harry," Gandalf responded with a smile as he approached, staff in hand. "Aragorn, it is good to see you looking so well."

"Thank you," Aragorn replied, or as Harry had come to know him by his Elvish name as they grew closer, Estel. He would come and go in his travels as a ranger, but whenever he stopped in Harry would spend some time with him.

"Harry, come and let us walk," Gandalf said gently.

Harry nodded and went to put his bow away, Aragorn waving him away with the promise to collect the fallen arrows.

Harry and Gandalf walked through the halls of Rivendell. It was late afternoon and the skies were pink from their position up across the valley.

"I have had the most terrible feeling lately," Gandalf started, disturbing the silence between the two Wizards. "Something has been stirring in Mordor. There has been sightings of creatures across the waters from Osgiliath again."

Harry was silent. He knew what this meant. He had been having the most vivid dreams over the past few years he'd been here in this new world.

"I fear for the sanity of Denethor, and in turn, his sons," Gandalf said softly, stopping as they came to a railing overlooking one of the larger waterfalls. Harry leant up against the stone wall, looking down at the drop.

"I have been seeing the lights growing brighter," Harry said softly, "the forges have been lit and there is a darkness that is growing deep beneath the earth."

"You are seeing it too, good," Gandalf said, to which Harry raised a brow in response.

"I hardly call those visions of that terrible place 'good'," Harry said dryly.

Gandalf shook his head. "It means that you were brought here as one of us, for a purpose although I do not know why still. If you are having these visions it will help."

"Should we be alerting Boromir and Faramir to this?" Harry asked.

"I do believe they would try to act, but it's another thing to try and convince that stubborn man of a father they have," Gandalf said, pulling out his pipe as he let Harry use a finger to light it, the end of his digit holding a small flame. Harry had slowly been working on his magic being channeled through his hands just like Gandalf could - it was a handy trick for battle. "We need to be careful with our actions from now on."

The two were silent for a while, Harry watching as Gandalf blew smoke dragons that would twirl and fight one another before dispersing. It brought a smile to Harry's lips when one of the dragons looked eerily like the Hungarian Horntail from his 4th Year.

"When will we leave?" Harry asked softly. He'd be sad to leave this beautiful place, and even more so, the inhabitants who had welcomed him so warmly.

"In two days, I will need to advise Elrond and we must pack," Gandalf said with a sigh. He could see the sadness on his companions face. "Do not worry, Harry. You will return here one day again."

"I hope so." Harry replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I feel like the twins will be crying for weeks once we are gone."

Gandalf chuckled and rested a hand against Harry's shoulder. "You can always write to them."

"Very true," Harry said with a smile. He had been training Arnis to carry messages for him. Gandalf had told him how Saruman used ravens, so it would just take training and a little bit of magic to get Arnis to deliver the letters.

At first Arnis had been stubborn and would mostly tear up the parchment, but after quite a few treats and the promise of a new stand for him to sleep on, he'd slowly learnt to fly with a small satchel that was secure to his back. If he were flying, one wouldn't be able to see the black leather straps of the satchel that blended in with the dark feathers of his chest.

Harry had been immensely proud and Arnis had puffed up under all the praise.

Harry and Gandalf stayed there till the sun set.

/ / /

The departure from Rivendell had indeed been filled with tears. Arwen was openly shedding tears and hugging Harry farewell. Harry had to think she still looked beautiful even in her sadness.

The twins looked pained as Harry hugged them both goodbye.

They had gifted Harry with a beautiful elven sword that the two had commissioned their blacksmith to make for him. It was the perfect length and weight, with intricate vines twirling up the handle and hilt. Set in the blade itself was the phrase in Quenya.

 _Endorenna Utúlien_

Harry laughed outright at that.

"Indeed my dear Elrohir and Elladan," Harry said with a smile as he held the blade, pulled from its sheath as he had read the transcription. "To Middle Earth I have come."

"We will miss you," Elladan said softly.

"And I will you," Harry said as he looked around at the small group of elves, "all of you. I cannot express how much your hospitality of opening your home to me means. It has truly been incredible. I have learnt so much from you all."

"You are always welcome here, Harry," Elrond said with a gently smile. "You have a home here if you ever need shelter."

Harry bowed his head, feeling quite honoured. "Thank you, all of you. I promise to return soon."

"If you make your way back to Hobbiton, let Frodo know I am well," Bilbo said from next to Glorfindel, leaning against his walking stick.

"Of course Bilbo," Harry said with a smile.

The old hobbit smiled back. "Thank you."

"I promise to send Arnis with letters," Harry said with one last hug to Arwen who was wiping her tears.

"Be safe on your journey," Elrond said with a small blessing in Elvish for safe travels.

With that, they headed off on their horses, Harry looking back over his shoulder once more to wave as they crossed the bridge, leaving Rivendell.

/ / /

"Harry!" Gandalf called as he swung his staff at a group of thieves who had tried to invade their camp.

Harry was using his sword to parry against a thief who held two daggers. Harry was not as strong as the burly man, but he was quicker and tactical.

A side step here. A thrust forward there. Parry that blow.

Harry remembered all the training the twins had ingrained in him. The two men circled one another, Harry's watchful eye making sure to keep track of each step his opponent took.

They both ran forward, sword meeting dagger in a clash of metal, screeching and whirling as the blades spun and hit one another.

Soon enough the man was unconscious on the ground and Harry was faced with another thief who had realised that their companion was in trouble.

Harry gestured with his hand to the man, a smirk curling across his lips. "Come, you filthy thief."

The man let out a roar and a line of expletives until he suddenly staggered, took a few steps forward and fell the the ground unconscious.

Harry glared at Gandalf who stood behind the man, his staff raised like a club.

"I could have dealt with him you know," Harry said as he checked the few cuts he had on his arms and leg from the daggers.

"It is best that we quickly leave, we do not want to draw attention to ourselves," Gandalf said as he began to pack their bags.

"Lucky the horses didn't run with all the noise," Harry added.

"They would not run, they know battle noises," Gandalf replied.

"That's something at least," Harry said with a snort.


	13. Chapter 13

**Another chapter for all those lovely people who reviewed, fav'ed and followed.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 _Year 3010_

Gandalf and Harry finally arrived at the gates of Minas Tirith.

It had taken them many months of travel from Rivendell. They had stopped at a few towns here and there to allow for the horses to rest and for them to replenish their supplies. They luckily had better weather this time around.

They also had to make a detour around Isengard, heading through the remains of Dolgul Dur which had extended their trip by many weeks.

The land was dead and dry, the trees blackened and the soil was void of all plants, not even weeds would grow.

"Gandalf this place," Harry had said as they approached, his hand clutching at his head as he swayed in the saddle. He then fell, his eyes closing as he slipped into unconsciousness.

When he had awoken, Gandalf had handed him a gourd of water.

"This place feels so dirty," Harry said after he had some sips of water.

"Yes. It is a place where many atrocities occurred. This is Dolgul Dur." Gandalf said as he helped Harry sit up. They were huddled in a patch of dead trees, the famed mountain in the distance where the stone ruins stood. The skies above them were dark with clouds.

"The place of the first war?" Harry asked, remembering the name from Elrond's stories.

"Yes. Sauron used this place as his fortress and his magic corrupted even the earth. This area is cursed, but there is so much magic here that Saruman will not sense us passing through here."

Harry shivered at the mention of the magic. He could feel the darkness around him, whispering nothing but death and decay if it were to be used.

"I feel so filthy, the magic here is rubbing up against me, I can feel it," Harry said as he rubbed at his arms through his coat. He felt like he needed a good bath.

"Yes, you are young and more susceptible to it I'm sure. It is waiting for anyone worthy to use it, enticing travellers through here. Why as you know, there was a Necromancer here not that long ago."

Harry nodded. He had heard the tales from Bilbo about Gandalf having to stop the Necromancer.

"I just want to get out of here," Harry whispered. His head was throbbing and he felt very much violated by the darkness that was surrounding them.

"I'm afraid it will take us a few extra days to traverse these lands before we will be free of the dead area," Gandalf said, patting Harry's arm. "Do not worry, I will help you, I have had experience with this magic."

Harry nodded but winced at the thought of more days of this terrible place. It was probably the longest days of his life. Harry was quite sure he didn't even sleep, he was too aware of the magic around him that he didn't even dare try to engage it by casting spells. That he left up to Gandalf who was confident he could control it.

They had eventually made it through but it had taken Harry a good two weeks before he felt like himself again. It was also when he had finally had a proper bath at an inn where he scrubbed his skin raw to finally feel some semblance of being clean. It was like a purge of the filthy magic.

He hated to think that Sauron had spent his whole time there amongst that magic.

No wonder he ended up crazy.

/ / /

Now, looking up at the great white city, Harry was in awe of the sheer size. A place like this put Hogwarts to shame. The white marble and stone towered up above him as they passed through the gates.

The people on the streets turned to stare but did not do much else. Most people were familiar with Gandalf, although a few shot Harry curious looks as they rode in.

Gandalf had lead them down a cobbled street to stop at stables next to an inn. Dismounting, they paid for board and food, as well as food and a brush for their beasts.

"I think I might go exploring," Harry said once they dropped their packs into the room they shared, two single beds squished into the small room. Gandalf merely raised a knowing brow.

"Make sure to stay away from the main chambers, that is where Denethor will be," Gandalf said as he sat on his bed and pulled out his pipe.

Harry just grinned. Gandalf seemed to know where he was heading.

"I promise to be careful," Harry replied as he threw off his jacket to his bed, he'd stand out too much in it. He rolled up the sleeves of his white tunic, "look, no weapons or anything. I won't make trouble."

Gandalf snorted at that statement. "You will make trouble no matter where you are."

Harry tied his hair back at his nape, knowing he looked a bit different from before, more like a normal Gondorian boy out for a walk.

"You are such a grump," Harry poked his tongue out and left, closing the door behind him as he did.

He navigated his way through the streets, knowing his destination was up. Following the winding streets he'd stop every so often to look out at the view.

The higher he got, the more he could see the darkness on the horizon, clouds permanently hanging over the mountain there. _Mount Doom,_ Harry thought to himself.

He knew it would take a while to reach the top but on foot it really was a large walk. Luckily he had taken his jacket off - carrying that thing all the way to the top of Minas Tirith would have been tiresome.

He was able to pass by the guards unseen, knowing he just looked like some servant no doubt if he were to be caught. But Harry was confident in his skills to be unseen. This was, after all, a surprise visit.

With one thought and a bit of magic, Harry was able to find the one he was looking for.

Making his way through the halls, avoiding the main one as per Gandalf's warning, he eventually found his way into a long tunnel that seemed to be burrowed into the mountain Minas Tirith was built against.

He could see the fire light rippling against the walls as he neared the entrance mouth. It seemed to be a training room, with, luckily the only person in there being the one he was looking for.

He stood for a moment watching the shirtless man spar against a sack that was tied to a chain hanging from the ceiling - very reminiscent to a boxing bag. The muscles of his back rippled in the fire light, each strike on the bag accented with a small huff of exertion.

Harry rather enjoyed watching this.

Creeping forward, silently, Harry was able to catch the man unaware as he threw his arms up to cover the man's eyes.

Harry soon found himself flipped over a shoulder and pinned to the stone floor. One hand was still over the eyes, even as Harry felt a hand pressing against his own throat.

"Who are you?"

Harry slowly spread his fingers to let the man see him.

"Surprise?" Harry said with a breathless laugh and a smirk as the fingers around his neck immediately lessened.

"Harry?" Boromir stated, his eyes wide in surprise.

"The one and only," Harry said with a grin as Boromir sat up from his position hovering over his body. Harry ignored the small voice in his head that tried to protest the loss of heat.

"Wha-how?" Boromir said as he ran a hand over his beard and hair, pushing the sweat drenched locks back.

"Miss me?" Harry said as he watched Boromir closely. Up close he noticed a few things.

Harry had to keep his eyes on the man's face and not to the dark hair that littered the broad chest, the trail of hair that sunk lower and lower… He kept his eyes to Boromir's face.

The man's hair was obviously longer, his beard was fuller but still trimmed to the same length as it was all those years ago. He didn't look much different other than the lines on his face were a little more pronounced, especially the frown lines between his brows.

On that thought, Harry poked the said lines, "you've been stressing it seems, old man."

Boromir rolled his eyes as battered Harry's hand away. "Well I won't say I missed you now, will I?"

"I know you did."

Harry grinned and Boromir gave a small smile in return.

"Only a little," Boromir said as he sat back on the stone floor, crossing his legs as Harry did the same. "Now, why are you even here and how on middle earth did you get in here?"

"Answer to your first question will have to wait till we get Faramir and see Gandalf and the second, magic." Harry said with a shrug. It was pretty self explanatory.

Boromir nodded, sensing already that the answer to the first question he wasn't going to like too much.

In the comfortable silence that followed, Boromir looked at Harry closely. It had been 4 years since he had last seen him but he barely looked a day older. His hair was longer and he seemed to have filled out a bit more, but his face hadn't changed, no marks or lines or showing of age.

Boromir tried to stop the thoughts which were running through his head as he looked at the younger man before him.

Harry quirked a brow as he noticed Boromir observing him.

"You've grown, but your face remains the same despite the years since I had last laid eyes on you," Boromir said softly.

Harry smiled gently. "Gandalf had told me that I will not age physically anymore, that it will be very slow," Harry replied, recalling the startling conversation he had with the elder wizard. It was a strange thought to know he would not show his true age physically, although mentally he would grow as he accumulated knowledge and experience.

Boromir's brow furrowed at that, causing Harry to poke the thin lines that formed. This only made Boromir frown further which made Harry chuckle.

"You'll be a wrinkly old man before you know it if you keep frowning like that," Harry said as Boromir snorted.

"Can still land you on your backside, if you've forgotten what just transpired moments ago," Boromir said in retort.

"What if I just feigned weakness to let you win? Keep up appearances that the great Boromir was still the fabled warrior I had heard so many tales of," Harry replied with a wide grin.

Boromir rolled his eyes but stood, offering his hand to Harry. "We will need a rematch then. I will be interested to see your skills after all these years."

Harry let Boromir pull him to his feet.

"Come," Boromir instructed as he began to walk to a entrance on the opposite side to where Harry had first come. "We shall find Faramir and we shall have this conversation."

Harry followed Boromir, once again admiring the way the fire light danced along the man's shoulders and down his back.

/ / /

Boromir had stopped by his chambers briefly to change and to get a tunic to wear. He wiped himself off with a wet cloth to get rid of some of the stench of sweat. He was keenly aware of the eyes that followed his movements and he smirked to himself.

Once done, Boromir led the way to Faramir's quarters.

"No one comes here unless it is morning to clean. Otherwise we are left alone," Boromir said softly to Harry who hummed in response and fell in step with Boromir.

Boromir stopped as they came to a large oak door set in the stone wall. He knocked and waited to hear the muffled response to come in.

He opened the door and stepped in, aware that Harry was hiding easily behind his larger build.

"Brother," Faramir said as he turned in his chair from his desk. Papers were piled high and books were all over the place. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

At this moment Harry learnt around Boromir with a wide grin.

"Miss me, Little Brother?" Harry said, using the name that Boromir usually reserved for more affectionate moments.

Boromir had to snort at that to himself, knowing full well Harry was doing it to make a jab at him.

Faramir blinked once, then twice, before he was up and throwing himself at the wizard.

"Harry! What in middle earth are you doing here in Gondor! Oh, you've grown a bit too! I'm so glad to see you healthy but it's such a surprise you're here. Why are you here? How did you get in? Did Boromir sneak you in?" Faramir barely paused for breath as he spoke to the amusement of the other two.

"Slow down, breathe," Harry said as he hugged the younger brother back. While Harry had grown, he still still a few inches off Faramir's height. Damn those Gondorian genes and their freakish tall-ness. Actually, the elves had been this height too. Maybe it was something in the water…

Harry let his thoughts wander as he let Faramir look him over as the Gondorian male was chatting. Boromir just watched with a curl to the ends of his lips. It was like the near 4 years hadn't even passed since they lived together in that ramshackle farmhouse.

"Harry snuck into the Armoury where I was training alone, thankfully," Boromir said in response to his brothers questions. "He surprised me too. He is here with Gandalf and we have come to get you."

Faramir nodded. "Alright. Let me just grab my book, I have a few questions for Gandalf about the use of the plant…" Faramir began rummaging through a draw on his desk.

Harry sat back on the bed, feeling the plush material beneath his hands. It felt rich and warm and he proceeded to lean back as he waited for Faramir to gather the things he needed from the adjacent room through a side door.

"You guys sure live in luxury here," Harry said with a sigh, "what I wouldn't give to sleep in a bed like this again. Months of small scratchy inn beds make this feel like heaven."

Boromir chuckled. "My bed is yours if you wish."

Harry turned to look at Boromir who was still standing by the door. He quirked a brow. Did he just say what he thought…?

Faramir came back into the room, disturbing the small silence. He stopped and raised a brow as he felt the tension. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing, Faramir. Come, we'll sneak out before Father suspects something is amiss," Boromir said with a smirk, eyes flashing to Harry was was still silent, eyes wide in surprise.

Harry seemed to shake himself from the small moment. Had that been what he thought it was?

He was usually pretty oblivious in the relationship department. Harry was never one to be able to pick up on subtle hints but by the smirk that played over Boromir's lips, Harry was pretty sure he knew that his thoughts were correct.

"Come on, Harry," Faramir said from the doorway, noticing his friend was not following. Harry quickly got up and brushed down the wrinkles in his shirt. He avoided meeting those steely grey eyes that were so similar to another pair that had been watching him just moments earlier.

Harry had to fight hard against the shiver that tried to wrack through his body at the thought of what could be.


End file.
